Field Notes Archive - December 2024
Unpredictable Directions
opening an online shop, dropping into winter's dullness
Curly willow looking its best during dormancy
I spent most of this past week behind either a camera or a screen, building the back end of our online shop.
My only responsibility on Thanksgiving was to make mashed potatoes - Dan had already done the harder job of growing/harvesting them - and peeling was a surprisingly welcome respite from scrutinizing pixels.
But the hours were worth it once we stepped back to enjoy the completed collection, which is now available.*
*this shop opening happened in 2024 and these baskets are no longer available
This is only the second time we’ve offered baskets that can be ordered online and shipped for the holidays, so we’re still honing our process.
All 40 baskets needed to be measured, photographed, filmed, priced and input into the depths of our Squarespace store. I don’t mind documenting, or data entry, but both take longer than I think they will. This seems to be the case with a great many things.
Our ever-growing pile, where years of “waste” has become a habitat for flora & fauna alike
Again, Dan had already done the more difficult task of growing, harvesting, processing, and weaving all the willow throughout this past year, but the successfully symbiotic nature of our respective roles becomes clear in moments like this, when our (still developing) strengths converge.
Once the shop was checked twice and deemed ready for launch, Dan headed to the studio to work on weaving sample swatches of different varieties for the next time we open an online shop - our willow cuttings sale in March. We’re aiming to offer our most robust and encyclopedic catalog yet.
Onward, always.
Amidst swirls of flurries, my eyes and I took a much needed wander to reset.
Summer has long lifted her lush veil, revealing the muddy, messy palette underneath. Vines have become infinitely entangled, while branches and roots have chosen to chase unpredictable directions. Like a Magic Eye poster, the dull disorder requires an adjustment of one’s vision in order to decipher.
Only howling winds, or geese overhead, can break the muted spell.
A dusting of snow highlights even more subtleties of the season, which has been a more challenging one than we expected. The need for time and space to sit with the easily recognizable changes in the landscape is rising, as dependable familiarity does not equal comprehension.
Mystery abounds, always.
Empty nests signal the past, while Mantis egg casings sit, fortified for the future. Nature holds every iteration of time, effortlessly displayed altogether.
A year from now, I’ll be photographing and filming a brand new catalog of baskets, but today they’re simply sticks in our field that Dan will soon begin to harvest. The cycle we’ve developed will continue, and I could outline our story as simply as that, if I merely took the bird’s eye view of it.
In truth, there’s no telling what life will look like in a year. We certainly never forecasted this particular version of it, and putting a bow on 2024 in the shape of a shiny online shop solidifies the winding, unpredictable path we’ve taken.
May the silhouette of 2025 be even better.
Originally published on December 1, 2024
Before the Harvest Begins
projects from what’s been put up
We’ll officially begin harvesting our willow next week, reinstating our rhythm of reverse farming.
Working diligently to coppice and pollard during dormancy is our preferred form of field work, thanks to the peacefulness of a sleeping, albeit chilly, landscape.
For the next 3 months, the massive task will take up the bulk of our focus, as all of 2025’s teaching commitments, cuttings sales, and personal weaving depends on it.
Until then, we’ve been busily packing up orders from our online shop, and giving our attention to two other collections that have been patiently waiting to be transformed into projects that are both pleasurable, and purposeful.
Hazelnuts in their husks, Hazelnuts harvested
1. Hazelnuts / Cookies
Our young Halzenut trees produced a lovely harvest this season, and putting them into a sweet treat seemed like a worthy celebration. Naturally, chocolate felt like a fitting partner, and I trusted the classic pairing would yield rich results.
First, the nuts needed to be released from their shells, which we did using the Davebilt #43 Nutcracker:
We then roasted them for 15 minutes, and finally steamed them in a towel for 2 more.
I used a recipe from my doorstop-sized French Patisserie cookbook, whose instructions often go over my head. The ingredient list called for finely ground Hazelnuts, but our equipment (a food processor) couldn’t produce much better than robust bits.
My results did not exactly match up with the photos, but still, I pressed on.
Not so finely ground Hazelnuts at the start of the dough, and the final results, including some Hazelnut “bark” with the extra chocolate
Once the cookies were baked, I realized they were disappointingly flawed in texture, and structure. Perhaps it was the not so finely ground nuts, or the not quite whisked enough egg whites. My attempt at tempering chocolate (something I’ve never done before), was also a miss, with no shine, or snap, to be found. Matte and flat was not the intention, but the overall taste was a success.
The strength of both chocolate and Hazelnut’s flavors rose above my failures, and thankfully there’s enough of both for me to try again.
Honey filled comb, empty comb ready to be melted in a slow cooker, and finished, filtered wax that I poured into half-dome molds for keeping
2. Beeswax / Balm
This project has been on my mind ever since we closed down our bee hive last fall, and luckily it went much better than the cookies, and will last much longer.
At some point towards the end of summer 2023, the queen absconded from our hive, which we’d had for a little over a year, leaving the remaining members of the colony doomed. Sadly, I discovered the situation too late to do anything about it other than retire the whole operation, but a bountiful harvest of honey and wax was saved.
Beeswax, coconut oil, sunflower oil, & lanolin, ready to melt together, and the resulting balm
I finally got to work on blending our wax with several other simple ingredients over a double boiler to create a balm that will carry our already cracking skin through winter.
A modest amount of peppermint and rosemary oils added a touch of scent, and I designed a simple custom label to properly package up the results.
Happily, there’s enough to share with loved ones for the holidays, and we do hope to revive an apiary when there’s less travel on our schedule. 2024 brought us two swarms for the first time ever, so it seems the bees are letting us know they’d like to be here.
These projects have me thinking of all the other goods we’ve gathered in more fruitful seasons, and what could be done with them. Because even though we’ll be busy outside with our willow, the monotony will surely inspire creativity elsewhere.
Originally published on December 8, 2024
Wrapping Up & Recounting 2024
measuring the big moments
January, dormant Willow looking wildly vibrant
Inspired by Spotify’s annual aggregation of our listening data, I thought it’d be fun to gather some stats from Foggy Blossom’s year.
I’ve done this haphazardly and privately in the past, but sharing here feels like a fitting format to encapsulate all we’ve endeavored to do - especially since this is the first year since we began in 2018 where accomplishments are tangible, and abundant.
Here’s our 2024 in numbers, with a photo from each month along the way.
February, snow on Willow catkins
Teaching
9 Workshops taught together over 24 days, across 3 states (PA, NH & CO)
66 Students, all of which made at least 1 basket, but some up to 3 or 4
2 Private Workshops taught by Dan for a professor at Carnegie Mellon University
1 Mentorship by Dan for the Teen Apprenticeship in Craft and Technology at Contemporary Craft in Pittsburgh
March, Willow Harvesting Workshop on the farm
On-Farm Events*
1 Willow Harvesting Workshop for students in our 8-week class, pictured above
1 Tour for our local Historical Society, 2 Visits from school groups (one high school, one graduate level), 2 Private Tours for Willow enthusiasts/new friends
*We are woefully lacking in appropriate parking, access, and a building to host visitors, so these happenings are rare. There’s also only one bathroom on the property (in the heart of our home), so a portable toilet is always delivered for events.
Juggling public/private spaces, and a desire to share what we do, is an ongoing adventure!
April, playing with an abundance of Daffodils
Off-Farm Events
1 Exhibition Opening featuring Dan’s woven casket
2 Presentations together on our farming/Willow story, 3 Artist Talks by Dan
3 Basket Selling Events across 5 days, all here in the greater Pittsburgh area
May, a commemorative button for students in our longest class to date
Sales
~55 Baskets, online and in-person
~2,200 Willow Cuttings, all sold in bundles of 10
5 Willow Growing Consultations, a new offering we tried this year
15 Foggy Blossom T-Shirts, fulfilled via Printify, also a new offering this year (discontinued as of 2026)
June, student creations from our workshop in Colorado
New Plantings & Work
Planted ~1,600 new Willows across 27 varieties
Planted a new 100 Foot Row of Strawberries, Blueberries and Asparagus, and 3 new rows of Hazelnuts
Grafted lots of new varieties onto our existing fruit trees
Dan wove 48 Baskets (I wove about 5 or so)
July, selling baskets at a trunk show
Learning
We each took a 3 Day Workshop at the Tear Up Festival in England
We took a 5 Day Workshop together with Studio Amos at World’s End in NY
Dan took 1 Online Weaving Workshop, and I earned 26 Credits towards my Botanical Art & Illustration Certificate - 158 more to go!
August, in London
Audience
330 new Field Notes subscribers on Substack - thank you for being one of them!
500 new Monthly Newsletter subscribers on Squarespace
~27,100 new followers on Instagram*
We shared 52 Posts: 27 photos-only, and 25 reels (I made just 12 reels in 2023)
*I began our account in 2018, and growth happened at a snail’s pace until this year, when some of our reels got spun far and wide by the algorithm forces. I love making that content (and tried a few new, fun ideas), so I’m proud of how they contributed to the rise - but, it’s worth noting how difficult it is to tell how impactful these numbers actually are in terms of sales/students/real world results.
September, photo of us weaving at World’s End by Rinne Allen
Failures*
Hard to quantify, but worth mentioning:
A handful of applications to gallery shows/art calls that were rejected
A couple attempts at custom work that proved too difficult to see through
Realizing errors in material preparation (soaking, specifically)
Overextending ourselves with so many commitments that we reached burnout
*These, and more, will inform us moving forward. We can only be grateful for them!
October, Dan finally had time and energy to return to the studio
What’s Next
Weaving sample swatches of every variety we grow - pictured below
These will be used to further flesh out listings in our cuttings shop next spring
November, beginning to weave sample swatches
Discussing new ideas and potential changes for Field Notes in 2025
Musing over branding upgrades/innovations (packaging, merch, etc)
Mapping out a to-do list for each month to better manage our time
…all this, and more.
And of course, harvesting!
December, the harvest begins again
Originally published on December 15, 2024
The Smallest Shifts
Can you feel it?
The increasing daylight?
It’s a microscopic shift since yesterday’s Solstice, but still.
We’re on our way.
In the willow fields, progress feels just as small-scale.
But bundles are piling up, slowly but surely.
Only thousands more to go.
Elsewhere, collars are being applied to fruit trees in the midst of welcome snow.
It is officially winter now, after all.
These protectors aim to curb damage from voles and rabbits, two of our greatest foes.
It’s a gesture that can barely compete with them, but we try.
These seasonal tasks yield the tiniest results in the moment, and have Robert Frost on repeat in our minds at the end of a long, full year:
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Originally published on December 22, 2024
7 Lessons from 2024
to create more luck in 2025
1. Respect the Rhythm of Your Energy
It has taken several years to fully comprehend just how much is required to pull off harvesting, teaching, and creating, but after inelegantly juggling all at once throughout the first third of 2024, we’ve finally surrendered to the rhythm of each.
Moving forward, our endeavors will have their own season: winter harvesting, spring preparing, summer teaching, and fall creating.
2. Be Bold, But Give Only Gifts to Your Future Self
Our fervently ambitious mindset in 2023 (what we deemed our “Year of Yes”) created a mountain of commitments in 2024, leaving us with an aspirational hangover when it was all said and done. What we accomplished was staggering, but not without a cost. A calendar full of opportunities, born from a scarcity mentality, become a burden.
In the future, we’ll aim to curb this impulse by filtering out the low hanging fruit, and saying yes with more foresight.
3. Excavate Errors
Preparing in privacy feels safe, but growth has only come from taking our work, and ourselves, from the farm into the real world. Moving from imagination into action has been an illuminating education.
The incredibly high Colorado altitude that sucked our willow dry at a rapid rate was a master class in climate. The students who gave feedback on what details my info-graphics were missing, or how Dan could’ve better explained a specific aspect of a weave, offered more perspectives in a moment than we could have ever given each other over hours at home.
A million flashes of insight have hit us hard, but fully understanding every failure means a better outcome on the next try.
4. Be a Student as Much as You are a Teacher
Keeping our cups empty is a daily intention, especially as we get farther from the early days of learning. Losing touch with a beginner’s mindset is a danger to anyone who aims to teach, as it’s the keystone to common ground with your students.
Thankfully we love being students, even though it’s often a humbling, confrontational place to be.
5. Beware of Plateaus
Finding a sweet spot of skill level/accomplishment can be a very inviting place to land. The call to continue innovating and growing is much more difficult, especially because the more proficient you become at any specific skill, the smaller the gains are.
We could continue making and teaching the same styles of basket in perpetuity, but we know we’d get antsy. Better to wade into the agitated waters of advancement than to stay stagnant.
6. Remember the Original Intention
We started Foggy Blossom Farm for fun. Dan started weaving baskets as a winter hobby. I started Field Notes as a creative outlet, and yet all of these endeavors have at times felt far too serious.
When we can recall these original intentions, a bit of the gravitas is released, putting our feet firmly back on the ground.
7. The Most Challenging Moments Become the Best Memories
Just as we try to impart the idea of Level II Fun onto our students (grueling in the moment, a life highlight in retrospect), we must remember it ourselves. 2024 was riddled with taxing moments, but in addition to feeling personally toughened up, we have a treasure chest of memories to look back on.
Here’s to carrying all this wisdom with us, with grace, in 2025.
